Noah, his face tight, said, “They are not insurgents. The children will be much more frightened, and the mothers much more anxious, if we separate them. I suppose we can bring the mothers inside, too—”
“No,” Owen said.
Isabelle jumped in. “Noah, I think that Lieutenant Lamont is concerned about our safety. Even mothers have been used as suicide bombers on Earth, and—”
“We have no suicide bombers here!”
“—and the compound is more vulnerable if we keep opening and closing the gate. I’m not saying I agree with you, Lieutenant, but that is your concern, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Then what do you propose?”
Leo’s heart swelled with pride in her, which was ridiculous because she wasn’t his. But damn she was good! She was the real shit.
Owen said, “Don’t administer any vaccine at all.”
Leo blinked. What? The vaccine was what the scientists had been working on day and night! Why would Owen say—
“You told us that you don’t know if the vaccine will work,” Owen said, the words coming out like he was laying down automatic fire. “If it does, it only helps one in three, at best. That one will probably get really sick. You can’t vaccinate more than maybe a few hundred kids anyway. Even if it’s five hundred, then we get a hundred and seventy sick kids, many or most of who might die along with the native scientists, and you have twelve Terrans to theoretically nurse them, one of those a kid himself and five not even here: Schrupp, Beyon, the McGuires, Kayla Rhinehart. So six adults to nurse a hundred and seventy sick and dying kids.”
He isn’t counting the squad, Leo thought.
“And then when we go home, how are you going to take with us any of the kids that survive? There won’t be room. And they would get sick all over again adjusting to Terra’s microbes.”
Go home? There was no way to go home. Looking at Own, seeing the set of his jaw like an erection, feeling the conviction rising off him like heat, Leo wondered for the first time if Owen was crazy. Battle fatigue, PTSD, whatever—guys got like that sometime. Except—
Everything Owen had just said was actually true.
Noah, his face as grim as Owen’s, said, “Lieutenant, we are going to administer this vaccine. Your opinion is not being sought about that. It’s being sought about the best way to do it without danger.”
“You can’t do it without danger.”
The two men glared at each other, Owen in full gear and Noah in his silly pale dress, and Leo had a sharp image from Braziclass="underline" a fight between an imported mongoose and a viper.
Owen added, “Right now I’m getting reports from the compound roof of troop movements, heading here.”
“Those aren’t ‘troop movements,’ they’re the arriving mourners for the Mother of Mothers’ funeral!”
“Do you think I haven’t seen insurgents use local customs to commit terrorism?”
Also true, Leo thought, and blocked his worst memories from Brazil.
Noah said evenly, “We are going to administer this vaccine. Period.”
“Then let Kinnie scientists take it into the camp. All the second-expedition Terrans stay inside the compound, where we can do our job protecting you. The Kinnies can take care of their own.”
Silence, except for the low hum of Salah’s translation. Owen had used the offensive term deliberately, twice.
Noah took a step forward, fists clenched. Before he—or Owen—could do anything stupid, Isabelle again jumped in. “It’s not a bad idea, Noah. We can take the vaccine into the camp. I’ve heard that there’s anti-Terran feeling there, and that it’s growing. If we Kindred are the ones to go in, not the Terrans, it might defuse any violence. Claire can teach you and me the procedure. Also Steve and Josh—they’re on their way here, finally.”
No. Not Isabelle.
Owen pushed it. “So I’m right that the Kinnies would attack humans?”
Appalled silence. Owen had to have said it deliberately, he was too smart to not know how that would be received, what was he playing at—
Noah said, “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Isabelle said hastily, “So we’re agreed? Tomorrow morning the Kindred and I take the vaccine into the camp?”
Leo waited for Owen to say Not you. He didn’t. He considered Isabelle and Noah to be Kindred, not Terran. And he didn’t care if they were caught in any violence. They weren’t part of his mission.
“I’m going, too,” Salah said. “I’m a doctor. Let Claire stay inside, but you’ll need all the translators you can get.”
“No,” Owen said, and strode out of the room before anyone could answer him.
The crowded, stuffy room smelled of contempt.
Leo returned to patrol, his head buzzing. As he jogged around the far perimeter, noon sunshine pouring sweat from under his helmet and down his arms, he saw the “troop movements” that Kandiss must have reported to Owen. He paused to raise his binoculars.
The land fell away just below where he stood, and he could see for kilometers. Fields, orchards, scattered lahks, the river tumbling in gentle stages from here to the bottom of the valley, shining amid the purplish vegetation. Dark birdlike things soared above the river. Up here, along the road about a klick away and two dozen strong, came a group of thirty Kindred. Some walked; some rode four-wheeled bicycles; a few were carried in open litters. Nearly all were women, and most were old.
Mothers. Come for the Mother of Mothers’ funeral. Leo almost laughed, except that it wasn’t funny. When Kandiss had reported, the procession was far enough away that he probably couldn’t see it was an army of old ladies. Besides, insurgents often used as terrorists those people less likely to raise suspicion: kids, women, old men. However, Leo would have bet his life that these weren’t terrorists. They were the heads of lahks, like governors of states back home, come to bury a president.
“Procession coming up the road from the east,” he reported. “Looks like a bunch of mourners. Mostly old women. I think they’re heading to the camp.”
“Copy that,” Owen said. “Resume patrol.” Leo watched a minute longer—they were slow—and then resumed patrol. The camp was quiet. Kindred took naps in the heat of the day, like Spanish or Italians. A sensible custom.
A lot of their customs were starting to seem sensible to him.
At the north side of the perimeter, a figure trudged toward him across a grazing field. Again Leo raised his binoculars. It was Austin Rhinehart.
Kandiss said from atop the roof, “Prodigal son returns.”
Leo vaguely remembered something about a prodigal from the Bible, but he couldn’t recall what. He waited for Austin to reach him. The kid looked filthy, exhausted, and miserable.
“Hey, Austin.”
“Hey, Leo.”
“Where you been?” And how did Leo get saddled with the role of truant officer? He didn’t care where Austin had been. Except that maybe he did, and the boy looked so unhappy.
Austin said shortly, “I was gone.”
“Well, I know that. You and your mother went with the Terrans who own the mine, right? The McGuire brothers?”
“Right.”
“So where’s your mom now?”
“Still with Steve and Josh.”
“Uh-huh. And why are you back, and from the wrong direction?”
“Leave me alone! You aren’t in my lahk!”
And give shit-thanks for that. But—
“Look, Austin,” Leo said. “It’s good you’re back. But you’re going to have some explaining to do. Everybody’s furious about that vaccine you stole.”